


Eyes front

by DenmarkStreetGutterClub



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Oral Sex, Robin Ellacott's Land Rover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28016697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DenmarkStreetGutterClub/pseuds/DenmarkStreetGutterClub
Summary: Robin decides to surprise Cormoran
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	Eyes front

“Can you just tell her I’ve died?” Strike muttered. Robin shot him a stern look.

“Yeah, Pat, I’ll let him know. We agreed it was fine before so I’m sure it won’t be a problem. Yeah.. ok, yeah. Bye now,” Robin said, smacking the phone off Strike’s shoulder once she’d ended the call.

“You are such a sulky baby round her,” she chided, slipping the phone back in her bag.

“Well, she’s like the grandma who keeps knitting you horrible jumpers and insisting you wear them when you’re 15. I know she means well, but even that feels like she hates me,” he insisted, folding his arms petulantly.

“Oh you love it really, Corm,” Robin was having none of it. “You’d soon miss her if she wasn’t there. Which, as it happens, is exactly what she wanted. She’s organized a temp for the next three weeks while she goes on that cruise.”

“Just as long as she doesn’t expect me to look at three hours’ worth of pictures of cocktails and the fucking ocean when she gets back,” he said, and Robin stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned despite himself.

“Still, a temp. I remember a time you had a temp who caused you all sorts of bother,” she said, resting her head against her hand, her elbow on the back on the driver’s seat. They were likely to be here for some time. The Flirty Florist they were following had a regular pattern, and this particular stop had always taken about two hours. Since the business had really taken off in the new premises, and Strike had become increasingly frustrated with only seeing Robin at the arse-end of the day, Robin had asked Pat to deliberately schedule them on surveillance together a few times a week.

He had initially been inclined to protest and stoically push through the issue, but Robin told him he was being daft, because what was the difference if they were actually working? It wouldn’t hurt either the business or their fledgling relationship. He relented with token resistance, keeping his delight about the situation to himself.

“Yeah, I want it stipulated that the new one isn’t trying any dresses on,” he said, arms unfolded now, as he searched in the glove compartment for snacks.

“Thought the main distraction was taking the dress off,” Robin replied, reaching into her bag and fishing out a Twix which she tapped against his arm. He looked down at it, and up at her smug expression.

“Cheers,” he said, smiling happily as he tore open the gold foil and practically inhaled one of the bars of chocolate inside. “Will you be taking anything off in the car today, or am I safe from distractions here?” Strike asked, still chewing, his eyes on the small cottage Flirty Florist had entered about 20 minutes previously.

“No, I don’t think I’ll be disrobing in broad daylight, even on a quiet country lane,” she said.

“Shame,” Strike said, his mouth now full of the second bar of Twix.

“Can’t promise not to distract you, though,” Robin said, and her tone drew his gaze away from the cottage.

“Oh yeah?” He couldn’t disguise the curiosity in his voice. He’d not yet become used to the tone she used when she was pushing the envelope in their private life, but he’d heard it enough by now to know he should pay attention when she used it, and indeed the recent memory of when she last did caused his cock to twitch involuntarily.

“Well, distraction doesn’t have to be naked, does it?” She asked, leaning forward, her chin on his shoulder, eyes on his.

“No,” he said, his voice an octave even lower than normal because of the angle of his head, and also possibly because his breathing had quickened to double time in the space of the three seconds it took her to run her hand into his crotch.

“I mean, as long as one of us has eyes on the Florist,” she said, her hand cupping him, gently, her smile pure wickedness as she felt his response growing quickly.

“Neither of us are looking now,” he pointed out, unable to tear his eyes away from her face, as she dipped her eyes down to what her hand was doing.

“Well, eyes front, soldier. I’m busy,” she said in mock authority, and he swallowed and turned his head, half a smile twisting the corner of his mouth. He could cope with a cheeky hand job, he thought. They had plenty of time, and this really was a secluded spot. He shuffled forward in his seat a little, knowing she’d have to have a better angle to get his belt and flies undone, and rested his elbow on the car door where the window had been wound down because of the warmth. He put his right hand on her shoulder as she busied herself with his buckle and let out a hiss of pleasure as her warm hand took hold of his rigid length. He ran his hand into her hair, and she turned to gently kiss him as she began to run her hand up and down him at a leisurely pace. She broke the kiss a few seconds later.

“I said - eyes front,” she insisted, and he smiled with equal mischief, and leant his head back, his eyes now on the cottage.

“Yes, ma’am. Very good, ma’am,” he muttered.

“Ok,” she said. “That’s more like it. Now, no more unprofessionalism, please. You do your job, I’ll do mine,” she added, and Strike couldn’t help letting out a small whimper somewhat higher than the noises he normally made as she sped her hand up slightly, and he followed it up quickly with a more manly clearing of his throat.

Despite his job being to watch the cottage, after a minute or so, he felt his eyes drifting closed as he got a little lost in the feel and rhythm, only for them to snap open again in shock as he felt Robin’s lips begin to slide wetly down, over the head of his cock.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, looking down to see her red golden head in his lap, and the sight of her beginning to bob slowly up and down elicited a wordless sound that even if he’d been asked, he’d have no chance of coherently explaining.

“Robin!” He gasped after a few more seconds, the intensity of her warm mouth around him almost all-consuming. “What the fuck are you doing?” His hands had initially been flailing in all directions, but now his left gripped the car door frame, and he laid his right carefully on the back of her neck, transfixed by the sight of her, and the feel of her hand still gripping the base of his length, while her mouth pulled him in again and again. She carried on for a few seconds more, before slowing and pulling her head up and off him, the temperature difference making him gasp again. She kept her hand there, still working it up and down, now sliding quicker and wetter. She looked up, tossing her hair back as she did.

“Aren’t you supposed to be watching the cottage?” she asked, and he looked at her lips, slightly swollen now, and glistening wet.

“Christ,” he breathed, incredulously. “You’re amazing.”

She smiled, delighted. “Cottage,” she said. “And talk to me. I can tell if you’re looking down by your voice.”

He let out a disbelieving laugh, and then sucked in a shuddering breath as she returned her mouth to his cock, her lips at the tip, gently parting as she swept down to take more of him in and creating a brief vacuum of intensity that made him see stars.

“Gently!” He managed, his grip on the car door still tight, but his right hand light on the back of her head, stroking her hair as she released the suction a little and began the steady rhythm again, matching the slide of her lips with the motion of her right hand as she held him.

“God, Robin, that’s incredible,” He said, the feel of her soft hair under his hand every bit as sensual as the feel of her mouth. He shifted further down in his seat a little, and the angle of his cock changed, Robin made an approving hum that created a deep vibration, and Strike’s head fell back. “Yes, fuck, yes!” He gasped.

She’d never done this to him before, not even in the privacy of a bedroom, though she had grown increasingly bold since their first time, when she had been a reticent ingenue in comparison to this. Strike was _not_ complaining, especially when a second later, she began to flick her tongue in a featherlight motion on his frenulum. He sucked in a breath and looked down to watch her. She had angled her head to face him, her eyes closed, her pretty mouth open as her tongue danced around the swollen head of his cock, and he swept her hair behind her ear to better see what she was doing. She looked up at him, her mouth curling into a smile even as she ran her lips over the underside of his shaft.

“I thought I told you to keep looking at the cottage,” she said against the sensitive skin there, her voice lower and sexier than he had ever heard it. She started to lave him with her tongue from the base near his balls, all the way to the tip.

“Well, I would… but there’s an… incredibly…sexy woman… sucking my cock, and… it’s a bit distracting,” he panted, his heart thundering in his ears as she kept her eyes locked onto his as she licked him up and down. Once she reached the top again, she plunged her whole mouth over him once more, and began a heady, punishing rhythm, her lips tight around him. He could feel his release thundering towards him, everything taut and he felt a moment of panic that he was going to come like a rocket into her mouth, and there was no way she could be prepared for that.

“Robin…” he managed. “Robin, I’m gonna come… I’m so close… Robin, please, fuck.. you don’t have… you don’t have to… yes, yes… no… shit, Robin…” He was screwing his eyes up, head back, almost delirious with the feel of her, relentless around him, making her own sounds of pleasure and he knew she wasn’t going to stop and _oh god he couldn’t now if he tried_.

He sucked in a panicked final breath, his thighs taut, his backside clenched, desperately holding back the need to thrust up into her mouth. He let out a long primal grunt as he climaxed, pulsing powerfully, as he felt Robin slow her rhythm but not break away, and he became aware of her tongue against him in her mouth and he knew she was swallowing and he half sobbed with the unexpected intimacy of it.

Gasping for breath, he realized he was looking sightlessly at the roof of the car, and he blinked back to reality and moved his head down, as Robin was pulling up, passing her hand over her perfect lips demurely.

“Fuck _me_ , you sexy, _sexy_ woman,” he murmured approvingly.

“Later,” she said, pulling a bottle of diet coke out of her bag and unscrewing the lid. “We’re still at work, you know, and one of us at least has to concentrate.” She added, primly. She took a long drink, and offered him the bottle, which he took and glugged down half the contents. He shook his head in bemused and delighted wonderment.

“A little warning, next time,” he suggested. She arched her eyebrow.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Robin replied.

**Author's Note:**

> Pure filth, inspired by a picture of Tom Burke in the front seat of a car, looking rather, erm, focused.


End file.
